Kate's love for her father was deep, but she could not move a single
step merely to pacify him. She could have yielded herself entirely
to him in worldly matters; she would have doubted many of her
strongest beliefs if he had contested them; she would have given up
all her happiness for him; she would have died for him; but she
could not let go the faintest of her religious dreams, although it
was impossible to put them into words.
She wrote her letter to the priest. She found him living in a
cottage and was somewhat taken aback when she entered.
There were hardly any books to be seen, but a crucifix hung on the
wall.
'Miss Radcliffe--an old and honoured name! What can be the object
of your visit?'
'Father, I am in distress. I want something which perhaps you can
give.'
'Ah, my child, I understand. You would like to confess, but you are
Protestant; I cannot absolve you. Return to the true fold and you
can be released.'
'O Father, I have committed no crime; I come to you because I doubt
and I MUST believe.'
The holy father was unused to such a penitent, and was perplexed and
agitated.
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